You Know I Need You
by lizook
Summary: Her eyes drifted over him as she ate and she couldn’t help but smile at how easily charming he was in situations like this."


**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in the future; B&B are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: I started writing this during a self-imposed writing hiatus (clearly that worked well) and ended up stretching out the process over about a week while traveling, which led me to discover that I should not work like this; I re-read and re-evaluated it so many times I had no idea whether it was good or 'eh' anymore. Many thanks to **Cupcakebean** for the look over and assuring me it was fine. Also to **SSJL** for random spot checks.

**Disclaimer**: Bones is not mine; title found in Keith Urban's _Sweet Thing_.

* * *

She sighed and swirled her wine in her glass, watching as her publicist's eyes lingered on Booth; it was going to be a long night.

Interminable.

She hadn't even wanted to take this dinner cruise in the first place, but her publishers had been hounding her for months - _It's our way of helping you celebrate such staggering sales figures,Temperance _- and Booth's argument _(at least if we go they'll stop pestering you)_ had finally convinced her.

Plus, as he had pointed out, they would probably get a nice meal along with a romantic cruise on the Potomac out of it. The Boston bibb salad being set in front of her as they drifted past the Jefferson Memorial affirmed that his assumption was correct.

Conversation with Ms. Woolford (_Please, it's Lucy_), however, was hindering the mood. She was constantly quoting sales numbers, musing about royalties from the upcoming movie, and pushing for the plot line of the next novel when the previous one had been completed only weeks ago.

It certainly didn't help that she was eying Booth like he was a piece of meat either.

Scooting her chair closer to his, she took another sip of wine and started eating her salad. Her eyes drifted over him as she ate and she couldn't help but smile at how easily charming he was in situations like this. Even when, like her, he probably wished to be at home curled up on the couch bickering over whether it was ESPN or Discovery Channel night (not that it really mattered; the TV often faded into the background with them anyhow).

"So that's when Parker told me he had just wanted a tattoo like mine and had stolen Angela's markers because he knew they were hard to wash off."

"Well," Lucy chuckled, pushing her empty soup bowl to the side, "at least it wasn't a reanimated corpse that took them to leave a note implicating who had killed them."

"No, just my son, the Jeffersonian's first art thief."

"He didn't actually steal them, Booth, he just didn't want you to wash the marker off before it had set." She set her fork down and leaned back, her hand settling on his knee as she waited for the next course to arrive. "Furthermore, the reanimation of dead cells is scientifically impossible."

"But imagine if it was, Dr. Brennan. Your next novel could feature a victim literally talking to Kathy, guiding her through the horrific events that lead to them being in her lab..."

Their dinners arrived as she continued to ramble about how unique it would be, how it would engender Brennan to an entirely new audience (_It could be the first science fiction/mystery thriller/forensic novel!_). She fought back a smile as Booth caught her eye, suppressing laughter as the agent began asking him how he imagined Andy would react to such a case.

His look of amusement quickly faded, forkful of syrah braised beef nearly clattering to his plate as Brennan's hand moved up his thigh, her nails creating an incredible friction as they gently dragged over the heavy cotton of his pants.

Her hand stilled on his hip and he exhaled, counting to twenty - no, thirty - before he even dared looking at his food again.

"How's the beef, Booth? The vegetable puree is quite good." Slowly, she let her mouth close over her fork, watching his adam's apple bob as he attempted to swallow.

"Uh, pretty... yeah, it's good." _God, how the hell was she staying so composed? _As if nothing was going on while she ran her foot up and down the back of his leg, her fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants for a brief moment... she was killing him. "Holy shit, Bones," he leaned close, knee bumping hers, "what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm bored," she whispered, hand cupping his arousal before lazily drifting over his inner thigh.

_ "This _is what you do when you get bored?"

She smirked in reply, her hand moving over him faster as she turned towards Lucy. "Did you know that the Lincoln Memorial," she gestured to the building they were passing, "has thirty-six Doric columns? One representing each state at the time of his death."

Any reply was lost on Booth as she pressed against him harder, his hips bucking forward, forcing him to the grasp the edge of the table. Inhaling deliberately, he pushed his chair back and stood, praying their dining companion would remain focused on the sights of the city. "I, umm, I think I need some air; I'll be right back."

Brennan gave him a few minutes before excusing herself to the restroom and following after him, pulling her wrap tightly around her shoulders as she stepped out onto the deck.

He was leaning against the railing in the corner, as far from the large glass windows as he could get, shoulders tense, visibly trying to calm his breathing.

She stood watching him for a moment, shocked that she could elicit such a strong reaction in such a short period of time. The thought sent a wave of heat rushing through her as she crossed the concrete and leaned against the railing, arousal increasing as she settled next to him. Even in profile and the fading light of the evening she could see: his eyes almost black with desire, the slight flush at the nape of his neck.

"I don't think," he turned, arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close, "I can wait to get you home."

"Then don't."

It was practically a whisper, low and light, all the indication that he needed to know she was as aroused as he was.

Quickly, he leaned against her, pressing her into the banister as his hands bunched her skirt around her waist and his teeth scraped up the column of her throat.

"You just couldn't," he toyed with the edge of her panties, hands drifting across her waist, over her hips, "couldn't keep your hands off me."

"I," she gasped as his nails raked up her calves; fingers teasing _her _now, "I couldn't help it... I wanted to be home with you tonight and.. oh god..." her back arched, wrap falling silently to the ground as he rocked his erection against her thigh, "the way you've been looking at me all night... I couldn't stop myself..."

"You're blaming," he groaned in relief as she undid his pants, and hastily pushed them, along with his boxers, off, "me?"

"Yes, you're very alluring, Booth."

Another jolt of desire went rushing through him and he covered her mouth with his, tongues dueling as her hand slipped under his shirt and pulled him closer. "Oh fuck," he leaned back, drinking her in: bruised lips, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, "need you now..."

"You're not the only one." Hooking her leg over his hip, she pressed her heel into his back, urging him forward.

He couldn't deny her. His mouth fell to her shoulder biting gently as he yanked her panties to the side and slid into her heat, slowly beginning to move.

"God, baby, you feel unbelievable... not..." he grasped her waist, moving faster, "gonna... last..." and grunted as her hips rose to meet him, driving him even deeper, "long..."

"Me eith- oh shit," her head fell back, other leg wrapping around his waist as he increased their rhythm, "just like that... yes..."

Desperately, she trailed kisses over his jaw, eyes bright, breathing becoming shallow as she neared the edge and...

He stopped.

"What are you... don't you dar-"

Her words died as he his mouth hungrily claimed hers and she vaguely registered footsteps on the other side of the deck.

_How had he heard - sensed - the door opening? _She didn't really care, she was so close... she just wanted him to move... to send her spiraling into...

She gasped as he gently began rocking into her once more, tongue swirling over her clavicle in time with each thrust.

He leaned forward, bringing them even closer together, changing his angle of entry, as he whispered huskily in her ear. "Damn, Bones, you're so close... come on, come for me..."

Her nails clawed at his back as she tampered down the need to scream his name, her desire reaching unknown levels.

"Yeah, baby," he nipped at her earlobe, hands skimming over the curve of her waist, "just like that; need you to come for me."

Somewhere through the haze she registered the door to the inside opening and closing once more and let out a ragged breath. "Shit, Booth, I'm... yes..." Her breathing hitched as, unable to hold back any longer, he thrust into her even faster. Harder. "Yes... just... yesyesyesyes... OH YES!"

She hooked her arms under his, her forehead falling to his shoulder as her orgasm rocked her.

Feeling her shatter around him, he slid home once more and came, panting as he clutched the railing, trying to stay upright as the heat coursed through his body.

Her lips brushed gently over his before she laid her head against his chest, another wave of pleasure shooting through her as she listened to his racing heart.

"We should go inside before your publicist sends out a search party." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, grinning as she shakily lowered her legs. "You ok there, Bones?"

"I'm quite satisfied at the moment." Her mouth turned up as she smoothed her skirt and unabashedly watched him redress.

"Me too," he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close as he propelled them towards the door, "just wait until we _do _get home," he let his hand ghost over her waist and across her ass before settling low on her hip, "I'm going to keep you interested all night long."


End file.
